Small Victories

Raging River Rantings or Stream of Consciousness?

Some people write thoughtful, planned prose. Others express themselves through poetry that flows from deeply intellectual ponderings. Then there are writers like me. “Stream of Consciousness” is too gentle for my style. “Raging River Rantings” is more accurate. It is not that I write angrily, but that as a violent river flows unpredictably, so also my thoughts move to and fro in seemingly disconnected ways. They link but occasionally splash bystanders in the process.

On my drive to work this summer, there have been many small victories. First is the absence of various school employees who clog my route from September to June in their desire not to arrive at their respective destinations. The second is the lack of children boarding buses. More important is the vacancy of stubborn school bus drivers who refuse to allow commuters to overtake them following four stops within five hundred feet, frequently waiting minutes for students who are nowhere to be seen, delaying following drivers from reaching their destinations on time. These wins are summed up thusly: Lowered blood pressure.

You laugh, but you know it’s true. Shake or nod your head; you know this is real.

The river flows on. There are beautiful farmlands on my commute. We aren’t talking the American Midwest here. This is rural Maine. Hayfields. Pastures. On one stretch of road, I pass through a town with large fields on both sides. On my right as I drive north, there’s a field where fawns and does graze in early spring. As the grass grew, the deer continued eating, but the hay began to shield them. By early July, the hay was tall enough that the tan deer were almost indistinguishable from the brown grass. Yesterday morning, I saw one deer looking toward traffic as I drove past it. By the time I went home after work, the field was mowed. The hay is mulch, no good for feeding, and I’m a little sad that it has been cut. Observing the deer blending into their surroundings has been a small victory of interest and wonder.

For almost three years, I drove a 2007 Corolla that gets 35 to 40 mpg. That’s been awesome, because I live about 35 miles from work. However, in 2026, my son needed a vehicle for school and baseball, so he began driving my car, and my wife and I share hers. She rides with me to work every morning and returns in the afternoon to pick me up. That’s 140 miles of driving in her car, a 2012 Honda Pilot that gets just 20 mpg. Why don’t we use the Corolla? It’s not comfortable. I tolerate it well enough, but it wrecks her. Furthermore, the Corolla lacks air conditioning. The small victory this summer in my transportation is that while we pay more for gas, I get to ride in an air-conditioned vehicle.

The rideshare has provided a second small victory: Hubby-Wifey Time. For nearly an hour each morning and afternoon, my wife and I have one another’s attention exclusively. Although we can use the time for serious consideration of marriage and parenting issues, our more frequent topics touch on true crime podcasts she listens to, shared-interest TV shows she watches, political discussions, or humorous anecdotes from social interactions. I rarely watch TV, so she recaps episodes for me. I fall asleep listening to podcasts, so she relates details to me of Sword & Scale or family revenge tales. While our financial circumstances forced this situation upon us, we are both grateful for the time it has afforded us. Our kids are grown, but still live with us, so this time alone is rich, indeed. Recognizing this silver lining is a small victory.

Life continues in leaps and bounds. I have never been a physical leaper on purpose. Nor am I what one Monty Python sketch called “Bounder of Adventure.” However, in our 21st-century medical marvel of treatments for sleep apnea, I partake of a “bound” that is helping me shed some of my former self, if you catch my drift. I’ve shed about 55 pounds (27 kg for the metric folk) since I began treatment in October 2025. That’s a leap downward, I suppose. Each month this summer, I have seen an increase in energy and stamina for outdoor activity, and there’s no doubt this is a victory. I feel better and look younger, even as my hair goes grey and my goatee is white. Hahaha.

By no small miracle, our youngest graduated high school in June. He is looking for work. We’re willing to house him, but he needs a job. The idea of college intrigued him, but not the academics for it. This is the same son now driving my Corolla (the other one doesn’t drive). The small victory here is that he is beginning to recognize that actions have consequences. A speeding ticket from two years ago cost him a job already. Naturally, mom and dad don’t know anything, so all our cautionary words fell flat, but now that past actions have bitten him in the butt, we look like frickin’ geniuses. The wisdom gained by personal experience is starting to pay off.

May and June in Maine are beautiful months. The trees finally bud and bloom. Flowers and plants burst with color. The drab of winter fades away as grass and leaves green up and flood the landscape with lush layers of freshness. Breezy summer days keep mosquitoes and black flies at bay. July passes with national birthday celebrations, Old Home Weeks, cookouts, beach days, and camping trips. Baseball seasons rise and fall. Local tournaments excite young men and their families. Alternative Baseball offers America’s pastime to men and women with autism and other disabilities (alternativebaseball.org). Dreams are fulfilled. Hopes are dashed. In all of these things are small victories.

Where do you find your small victories?